


you're the one i miss the most

by itisjosh



Series: onlypain [47]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Best Friends, Gen, Guilt, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Memory Loss, Memory Related, Mentioned Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Permanent Injury, Pogtopia Era, Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29127540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itisjosh/pseuds/itisjosh
Summary: "Who are you?" Tubbo asks, watching as the boy's face drops."You..you don't..remember me?"(or, after the festival, tubbo wakes up. he doesn't remember much)
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Series: onlypain [47]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027711
Comments: 6
Kudos: 262





	you're the one i miss the most

_"Tommy!"_

_"Tubbo, no!"_

Tubbo feels his ears ring, blinking up at the stone wall that hangs over him. He winces as he tries to sit up, crying out in pain before he decides against that, flopping back down. He shouts when his back hits the fabric, though moving just hurts even more. Tubbo breathes out, biting down on his tongue to keep himself from crying out again. He reaches up slowly, whimpering when his left arm is brushed by the pillow he's propped up against. He gently lowers that arm, trying his best to keep it at least a couple centimeters above the fabric. Tubbo reaches up with his right, gently touching he right side of his face, feeling nothing. He moves over to the left, concern flaring up in his chest when he feels cloth over it. 

He breathes out when he realises he can't see out of his left eye, glancing around the room with his right. Tubbo stifles another cry of pain, his back screaming at him, pain shooting up and down his nerves. Tubbo wants to cry, he wants to cry _so_ badly, and he doesn't even know what happened to him. Or where he is, or who he is, or what happened in the last couple of hours. Or days, even. How long has he been here? He doesn't know. Tubbo swallows, feeling his throat close up, feeling like he's choking. Tubbo doesn't remember, he doesn't remember himself or anyone else or how he got here, and it's so terrifying, it's scary, and he's _scared_ , because no one else is around. No one else is around him, he's entirely alone and he doesn't know what to do. 

"Tubbo?" Tubbo forces himself to not jerk up, forces himself to keep still. He listens as footsteps get closer to him, the ringing in his ears subsiding a bit as they do. "Tubbo!" He looks up, staring at a pair of bright blue eyes. The blue eyes belong to a boy with blonde hair, and Tubbo offers a tired smile to whoever he is. Tubbo feels like he's important, like this boy is someone who he knows. Or should know, he thinks. "Oh my god, I thought that you'd never wake up, I thought.." the boy trails off, shaking his head. He has a green bandana wrapped around his neck, stained with soot and ash, scorch marks lining the front of it. "Are you okay?" 

"I.." Tubbo tilts his head to the side, trying to wrack his mind and memories for anything. He doesn't remember this boy, not at all. He feels like he should, his heart is screaming at him that Tubbo should remember. But he doesn't. "Who are you?" Tubbo asks, watching as the boy's face drops. 

"You..you don't..remember me?" 

"I'm sorry," Tubbo murmurs, furrowing his eyebrows together. "I don't..really know much of anything, actually," he offers, a chuckle escaping past his lips before he can suppress it. "I know that my name is Tubbo, I sort of..I kind of know who I am, but not really. I don't know how I got here, I don't know where I am or who you are or who I even am, not really. I don't know what happened to me," Tubbo looks up at the boy, concern flaring up in his chest once again. "What happened to me?" 

The boy doesn't answer, he just stares down at him. "You don't..you don't remember.." the boy trails off, and Tubbo can see tears shining in his eyes. 

"Wait, wait, please- please don't cry," Tubbo tries to sit up, crying out in agony when he does. He forces himself to push through it, to sit up, but it doesn't work. He collapses back against the bed, nearly screaming when his back touches the cold fabric again. He breathes out, gasping for air, trying to get enough oxygen into his lungs for them to work again. Tubbo whimpers softly as he relaxes again, squeezing his eyes shut, tightly gripping at the bedsheets with his right hand. _Fuck_. "I'm sorry," Tubbo whispers, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean to make you upset, I'm sorry, really. I'm really sorry, I wish that I remembered, but- but..I.." 

"No, I.." the boy crouches down in front of him resting his hand on Tubbo's. "You..you're hurt. You're really, really hurt.." the boy trails off, shaking his head. "I'm gonna fucking kill him for what he did to you, Tubbo. I'm gonna fucking kill him, I promise, I'll kill him for this. He's not- he can't get away with this, he can't..he isn't gonna get away with this, I swear to god I'll kill him. And when I do that, I..I'll..I.."

Tubbo frowns, the crippling pain in his entire body subsiding for a few moments. It's more manageable than it had been only a few seconds ago, thank god. "I don't..who hurt me? You don't look like a killer." The boy blinks, a grim smile stretching across his lips. 

"Yeah, I'm told that a lot," the boy laughs, though it's harsh and full of pain. "Tubbo, do you..you seriously don't remember anything?" Tubbo feels frustration stir in his chest, though he tries his best to push it down. He's already said that he doesn't remember more than two times now, why won't this boy listen to him? "I..I'm, um. I'm Tommy. We're- we're friends," Tommy clears his throat, a tear trailing down his face. He reaches up, quickly wiping it away with the back of his sleeve. "Best friends. We're best friends, you and I. And my- my brother, um. Technoblade. He hurt you. He shot you with a- with a ro-" Tommy cuts himself off, biting down on his lip, his eyes filled with sadness. "He hurt you, that's..that's all you need to know-"

"No," Tubbo interrupts, frowning even more. "No, I want to know. Tommy, why are you keeping that from me?" He asks, that frustration in his chest threatening to spill over into his words. "I don't understand, I don't.." Tubbo closes his eyes, feeling like he wants to cry. He doesn't know why, he doesn't know why he wants to cry. "You're really familiar, Tommy. We were best friends," Tubbo repeats the words, feeling like they're true. They feel right, they don't feel like lies. "We _are_ best friends," he corrects himself. "Tommy, I- I'm really sorry," Tubbo murmurs. "I wish that I could remember. Can..can you start from the beginning? What..how did we get here? Why'd I get _shot?_ "

Tommy laughs again, even more upset than the last. "That's way too long of a story," he smiles. "We..you and I, we fought for a nation called L'manberg. L'manberg was-" Tubbo holds up his right hand, squeezing his eyes shut. 

_"Independence, or death. If we get no revolution, we would rather die." A man with curly brown hair spits out, his navy blue uniform trailing behind him in the cool summer wind. He stands tall, his eyes shining faintly in the sun. The man across from him, one in a green hoodie with a white mask on, laughs._

_"Ohh, Wilbur," the man in green chuckles, his voice low, twisted and dangerous. Tubbo can see himself standing there, Tommy by his side. They're both in the same uniform as the so-called Wilbur, though Tubbo has a red bandana wrapped around his throat. Tommy has a green one, the exact same one that he still has on right bow. "You're going to lose this. You're going to lose everything. You're not going to win this war. You'll die, all of you will."_

_Wilbur tilts his head back, a cocky smile settling on his face. "Will I, Dream? Will we?" Wilbur motions around, and Tubbo watches as Tommy laughs and grins along with him, standing up on his heels. "We're going to win this war, Dream. And when we do," Wilbur steps forwards, looming over Dream. "I'll make sure that you never fucking forget it."_

Tubbo opens his eyes, looking up at Tommy. "Did we win?" He asks. "Against Dream? Did- did we win?" Tubbo feels a longing in his heart, something like melancholy. His head spins, his heart hurting. He feels like the question is wrong, like it's wrong to ask, especially to Tommy. Tommy just smiles, tight and strained and full of hurt and pain. Tubbo wishes he could tear his gaze away from Tommy's tired blue eyes, he wishes he could look away from the dark bags that are settled under them. He looks exhausted. Every inch of him screams _exhaustion_ , and Tubbo wishes that he knew why. He wishes he could help.

"We did," Tommy murmurs, his voice soft. "And then we lost it. We won, we..we lost a few lives," Tommy snorts. "I lost two, you lost one. I got us our Independence by trading in my discs, I gave them up so we could be free and happy, and I..I didn't mind, not at first. But then we- we held an election," his voice drops, calm fury washing over his face. "And we lost. By one fucking percent," Tommy snarls. "Schlatt won. He- he hurt you," Tommy shakes his head. "A lot. He exiled me and Wilbur from our own fucking nation and he took you as a prize. Will asked you to spy for us, to bring back information, and I tried to convince you not to, but-"

Tommy breathes out, and Tubbo is thankful that he's stopped talking. It's all too much, and none of the words sound right. They sound wrong and fake but they're the truth, they have to be, surely his best friend wouldn't lie to him. Tubbo doesn't know, he doesn't remember anything, and Tommy is just telling him things that sound so wrong and not true and he doesn't understand and it's all so confusing and-

Tubbo forces himself to breathe in, to calm his heart and his head. It doesn't really work all that well, and he still feels like he's suffocating, like he's drowning in memories and words that he _should_ remember. But he doesn't, he doesn't remember any of the things that he thinks that he should. Tubbo blinks up at the ceiling, wondering how he got here. Tommy and Wilbur were the ones kicked out of their own nation, not him, that's what Tommy said. Tubbo scrunches up his face, wincing when the the left half of his face burns and stings at the movement. Tubbo was a spy. Wilbur convinced him to be a spy, Tommy told him not to. 

Did Schlatt find out? 

Why did Tommy's brother, Technoblade, shoot him?

Where's Wilbur, where are they? Where is Tubbo? Who is he really, is he just a spy? Is he just Tommy's best friend? Does he have anything else going for him other than that? Tubbo doesn't know, he doesn't know anything, and he _hates_ it. He hates it so much, he wishes that he could remember, he wishes that he could force his memories to come back, but he can't, and he doesn't..he doesn't understand, and he hates not understanding, especially things like this. Tubbo feels like he should understand everything, that he should be able to ramble on and on about his country's history for hours, but he doesn't even know if he could explain how they got the name. L'manberg is a gentle word that rests on his chest, not suffocating him, not threatening to drown him.

L'manberg and Tommy. 

Those words, those names, they feel right. They feel like truths, they feel like honest words. Tubbo believes both of them. Nothing else makes sense, none of the other names register in Tubbo's mind. He pauses, hesitating for a second. Schlatt's name rings in his head, but in the worst way possible. Tubbo feels his stomach churn at the man's name, feels his chest tighten, like he can't breathe. His head pulses and spins and rings and sends alarm bells screaming off, echoing in his skull. Schlatt had to have hurt him, surely. Tommy had to have been right about that. Schlatt is bad, Tubbo decides. 

"Can we..okay," Tubbo breathes out, closing his eyes. "I want to play a game. Real or not real, bad or not bad," he opens his eyes again. "Schlatt is bad."

"Real," Tommy murmurs. "He's evil. He hurt you. He hurt so many people, but mostly you." Tubbo wishes he could nod, but he can't, so he settles on a quiet hum of understanding. 

"Wilbur is good." 

Tommy hesitates. "I don't know anymore. He sort of lost his mind..he's..he's not the same person as he used to be. He's still a good person, I think, but some of the things that he wants to do aren't really..they're not the best. He's a good person, his morals are just a bit fucked right now." Tubbo frowns, staring up at the ceiling for half a second before he looks back over to Tommy. 

"Real or not real," Tubbo swallows. "I died when Technoblade shot me." Tommy looks away.

"Real," he whispers. "Real."

Tubbo breathes out. "And real or not real," Tommy refuses to meet his gaze. "I'm on my last life." 

"Real," Tommy whispers again, his voice broken. "I couldn't save you in time. Real. It's real, Tubbo. You're on your last life," there's a pause, one weighted with far too much emotion, laced with pain and hurt and grief. "We both are." Tubbo swallows, feeling like he wants to cry. 

"Well," Tubbo clears his throat, wondering if it would be wrong of him to not want to remember. "Maybe.." he trails off, looking past Tommy, staring at the stone wall that looks back at him. He still doesn't know where he is or who he is or how this all happened. All Tubbo really knows for certain is that he's on his last life, and so is his best friend. Tubbo wishes that he hadn't asked. It would have been so much easier to not know. "I think that, um.." Tubbo breathes out. "I'm in a lot of pain, Tommy," he laughs, sniffling. "I'm really..like, I'm in a _lot_ of pain. Maybe we could help that before I remember anything else?" 

Tommy nods a few times, squeezing Tubbo's hand with a gentle, sad smile. "Anything for you, big man. Anything for you."

* * *

"The discs got us our Independence."

"Real."

"We're still working with Techno, even though he shot me."

"Real."

"I..Dream killed me?"

"Not real."

"Schlatt has allies."

"Not real."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Dream is on our side."

"No. Not real."

"I thought he was."

"He's not."

"Niki, Fundy, Quackity, and everyone else other than Dream and George, the Badlands, and Schlatt, they're all on our side?"

"Real."

Their conversations last for hours, all of them related to the topic of Tubbo's memory and how to get it back. Wilbur and Techno come to visit every now and then, helping him sit up, bringing him water. Techno is never allowed in the room alone with him, though he manages to slip in when no one is looking. He apologises a lot, more so than Tubbo really thinks that he needs to. Tommy was right about Wilbur, though to be fair, Tommy is right about most things. 

"Quackity got hurt by Schlatt, too."

"Real, probably. Everyone got hurt by him."

"Did Niki?"

"I don't know. I wasn't allowed to go back to L'manberg. Ask Wilbur."

Tubbo doesn't want to ask Wilbur. He trusts Tommy, he trusts Tommy the most out of every single person that he's been told about or that he's met. Tommy feels like the only person that he really can trust, and Tubbo doesn't want to ask anyone else for any answers. Not when he has Tommy. He feels bad about that, he feels awful that he doesn't go to anyone else for answers. Tubbo can see that it hurts him, that it hurts Tommy to see him.

It makes him sad and guilty and angry and upset, because it's not his fault that he lost his memories, but it sure fucking feels like it sometimes. Tommy gets frustrated with him easily on some days, whereas on others, he's calm and patient and kind. Tubbo figures that it's just the stress of the war looming over their heads, especially Tommy's. Tubbo just wishes that his best friend wouldn't take it out on him for not being able to remember

He makes more progress with his injuries. Tubbo sits up more often, he's getting better at biting back his cries of pain, specifically in the middle of the night. He's learning how to properly move his left arm again. it takes him far too long to drag himself off of his bed to go places, and Tubbo hates it. He hates being treated like a little kid who can't do shit on his own. Even if it's true, Tubbo still hates it when people act like it. 

"I died outside of the..what did you call it?"

"Not real. You died inside the final control room. We all did."

"Fundy was the one who betrayed us."

"Not real, that was Eret."

Tubbo stares up at his ceiling, throwing a ball up in the air, catching it as it bounces back down after hitting the stone ceiling above his head. Tubbo sighs, breathing out through his nose. It's a lot less painful to breathe through his nose rather than his mouth. Tubbo shifts uncomfortably, wishing that he wasn't as useless as he is. Wilbur comes to talk to him a lot, and he doesn't sugarcoat anything. He's told him about Schlatt and the festival, about Techno and how he was forced to shoot him. Wilbur told him about the day they had to run, the day that they left, and Tubbo had to firm their fall. 

He's been told about their plans, about how Wilbur wants to blow up L'manberg, about how Tommy doesn't. Tubbo tosses the ball again, catching it with his left hand this time. Everyone keeps telling him all these things, and none of them make sense. L'manberg was a nation built on war, L'manberg was a nation built on peace. L'manberg is his home, it's not his home. Wilbur is a good person, he's the villain. Schlatt is evil, but is he really? Tubbo sighs, pushing himself to sit up, biting back a cry of pain when he does. It's not as bad as last time, at least. It gets easier each time, to pretend like the pain doesn't exist. 

"Tubbo," Tommy wanders into his room, still looking exhausted. Tubb wonders when he slept last. Probably days ago if he's being honest with himself. "Remember anything new?" Tubbo sighs again, wishing that that wasn't the only thing people asked him. They never ask him how his wounds are healing, if he's alright. It's always _what do you remember?_ Tubbo wonders if it would have been better if he just didn't wake up from his coma. "Tubbo?"

"I can't speed up this process, Tommy," Tubbo snaps, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. "This isn't something that I can speed up, I can't make this go any faster. I don't have any control over this, and I don't like that you act like I do. This isn't my fault, Tommy, I didn't- I wasn't trying to get shot, I didn't ask to forget. Stop making me feel like it's my fault. I don't like it, Tommy. I don't like it, either. It pisses me off and.." Tubbo closes his eyes. "I wish I remembered. But I don't, and we have to deal with that."

Tommy is silent, because of course he is. "Right," he murmurs, voice barely raised above a whisper. "I'm..sorry, I just- you know? I..want my best friend back."

"He's sitting right in front of you," Tubbo jeers, annoyance and frustration all building up in the back of his throat, threatening to lace his words with venom. "He didn't go anywhere," Tommy looks away, jamming his hands in his pockets, leaning back on his heels. He looks like he wants to escape, and Tubbo doesn't think that that's fair at all. "You're doing it," Tubbo mutters. "That thing where you go all quiet 'cause you think that I'm right, but you'd rather push that down and make me sound wrong and have you be right than the other way 'round. I'm sick and fucking tired of you doing that," Tubbo scoffs. "If you're just..if all you come to do is make me feel like shit, I don't want you in the same room as me."

"That's not fair."

" _You're_ not being fair!" Tubbo raises his voice, biting down on his lip a second later. He closes his eyes, regaining his calmness from only a few moments ago. "You're not being fair, Tommy. You're not, you're not being fair at all. It's not right. Why am I not allowed to be upset with you, but you can be upset at me for something that's not even my fault? I want to remember, Tommy. I want to remember more than you want me to remember. You've..you've never had this happen to you, right?" Tubbo shakes his head. "You don't know how it feels. I keep reaching for answers, and everyone is giving me something different. Everyone wants me to just magically remember everything, and I _can't_ , and then you all get upset at me when I don't!"

"Tubbo, I didn't.."

"You didn't mean it?" Tubbo asks, glaring at his friend. "Then why won't you listen to me?" He turns away, glancing down at the cloth that wraps half of his body. He hates it. Wilbur's told him that the burns are going to last forever. Wilbur's told him that when they take the wraps off, it's going to hurt. Wilbur's told him a lot of things. Wilbur is blunt and loud and full of emotion, and although his morals are warped and disgusted and bad, he tells the truth. Wilbur listens to him. Tommy doesn't. "Tommy. Please, can you- can you just.." Tubbo shakes his head. "Can you please just _try_ to listen to me?"

Tommy nods a few times, looking uncomfortable. "Okay. Okay. I'm sorry. It's.." Tommy looks away. "Sorry." And then he walks off, not looking back once, disappearing further into the ravine. 

Tubbo sighs, tilting his head back as he squeezes his eyes shut.

Figures.

* * *

"I'm sixteen."

"Real."

Tubbo nods, pausing. "I'll be seventeen soon."

Tommy smiles. "Real. Kind of pissed about that, not gonna lie," he laughs, ducking his head. "Kinda fuckin' bullshit that you're gonna be all old 'nd shit, and I'll still be called a child," Tubbo laughs along with him, tugging the blankets up to his chest. His wounds hurt a little less, it's been a few days now. The better half of two weeks, he thinks. "Will always calls me a child, and I'm fuckin' _not_ ," Tommy sighs. "Everyone does. Even you." Tubbo raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Yeah, even you, bitch boy. Don't look at me like that." 

"Oh, fuck off," Tubbo laughs, flipping his friend off. "You're so dumb. That doesn't sound like me at all. Anyways," he smiles, feeling happy. "You've got a pet cow named Henry." Tommy sighs, scrunching up his face. He looks down at his hands, sighing again. 

"Real, not real. He's dead." Tubbo pauses, blinking. 

"How'd he die?" 

Tommy shrugs. "I don't really know," he admits. "He just..died, I guess?" Tommy offers a half-shrug, drumming his fingers against the blankets. "Kind of just happened, I guess. You actually had a lot of pets. Spinz and Spoonz, they were your bees. I don't even know what you'd ever see in a fuckin' bee, since all they do is buzz 'nd shit. They're real loud and annoying, and I reckon I would've stepped on them if you didn't make an entire goddamn dome for 'em."

Tubbo snorts, flipping him off again. "You're so annoying. I think I want to kick you out of my room," Tommy throws his hand to his heart, mock-concern on his face. It melts off quickly, replaced by a huge grin that stretches to his ears. "Out! Go on, out with you! Get outta here, out of here with you, you little terror!" Tommy laughs, and Tubbo reaches out to playfully slap at his chest and shoulders. Tommy laughs a little more, raising up his arms, ducking away from Tubbo's hands. 

" _Little?_ You called me _little?_ I'm the biggest man there is!" Tommy grins, closing one eye. "Fuck off, tiny! Bitch! Bitch boy, bitch boy!" Tommy laughs, looking like he might pass out from how hard he's laughing. "You are a bitch! A bitch, a tiny bitch!" Tubbo laughs along with him, rolling his eyes as Tommy lists off insult after insult, trying to come up with new words. "You've got nothing in your head, it's all empty! Nothing's here, it's all em-"

_"Down with the revolution boys! It was never meant to be!" Tubbo gasps, watching as the walls around him crash down, he watches as Eret slips off his sunglasses, throwing them to the ground. His eyes glow in the dark room, and Tubbo watches as Dream and Sapnap and George and-_

_It was a trap. They got betrayed, they got ambushed. They got fucked over._

_"Behind me, get behind me!" Tommy shouts, grabbing Tubbo by his arm, whirling him behind. "Back to back, Tubbo, back to back!"_

_"Got it," Tubbo sneers, clutching his sword in his hands, shouting out when he feels an arrow pierce his leg. "Fuck, fuck- Tommy! Tommy, go, get out of here, Tommy-"_

_"No, Tubbo! Tubbo, wait, no! Don't hurt him, don't- don't! No, stop, stop, stop! Sapnap, stop, get the fuck away from him!"_

Tubbo gasps, trying to catch his breath. Tommy looks up at him, concern shining in his eyes. "What happened? Tubbo, are you okay? Tubbo, are you.." Tommy reaches out, setting his hand on Tubbo's shoulder. "Tubbo? What happened, what's wrong?" 

"The.." Tubbo looks away, feeling tears prick at his eyes. "Final control room. It was just..it was the final control room. Sapnap..he.." Tommy nods, squeezing his shoulder.

"It's okay," he murmurs, voice low. "It's alright, Tubbo. You're not there, we're here, we're in Pogtopia. We're not in the final control room, Sapnap is nowhere near here. He's not going to hurt you. I might have been fuckin' useless then, but not now. I promise. I'm not gonna let anything happen again, promise. I swear, Tubbo. You don't have to remember shit, and I'd still lay down my life for you, okay?" Tubbo laughs, sniffing, trying to hold back tears. He doesn't know why he's crying, but he is, and he hates it. 

"You don't have to," Tubbo smiles, reaching out to set his hand on Tommy's hand. "I'd do the same for you, big man. That's what- that's what friends are for, right? We'll lay down our lives for each other, that's how it is, right? It's how it always is, it's how it'll always be, yeah?" 

"Yeah," Tommy smiles. "But I'd prefer to play the hero and keep you alive."

"Tommy," Tubbo shakes his head. "I don't know how I would live without you."

Tommy tilts his head to the side, raising an eyebrow. "I'd do worse. You would be able to live without me. I wouldn't. You've always been a lot stronger than me, Tubbo. Trust me on that one. You'd be okay, you'd..maybe not okay, but you know what I mean. You'd be okay eventually, I wouldn't be." Tubbo breathes out, looking away.

"I wouldn't be okay. Not ever. I might not remember much, Tommy, but I _know_ things. I know that I love you, I know that I would die without you. I know that I would hurt forever, and I know that I'd probably die a few days after you. I don't remember a lot, but I know things and I feel things, and I follow my gut a lot, and I listen to the people I know that I can trust. Except for when they're spouting shit." Tommy sighs, ducking his head.

"You're stubborn. It's annoying as fuck."

Tubbo grins at him. "Whatever you say, bitch boy."

* * *

A month goes by, and Tubbo is able to grasp at fleeting memories that drift by in his head. He can grab them now, he can pull them back and remember. It's hard and it's tiring and exhausting, he's sent into panic attacks and spirals of fear, but he remembers.

Sort of. 

There are still things he can't remember at all, even though Tommy offers to take him to the places that they happened, in secret. He doesn't hurt as much, he has a lot more control in his left arm again. Wilbur was right - taking off the wraps makes him want to die. Thank god he passed out within the first minute of them doing that. Tubbo wanders throughout Pogtopia, thinking back to when he was still in L'manberg. He remembers building their walls and laughing with Eret and throwing snow at Fundy. He jumped up on Wilbur's back once and dragged the both of them to the ground on accident, trying to distract Tommy's older brother from working himself to death.

There are fond memories, and then there's the ones laced with pain and agony, tinged bittersweet. He remembers laughing with Eret and shoving him around and joking with him, almost calling Eret his brother once or twice. And then he remembers Eret's glowing eyes, he remembers the way his voice sent chills down Tubbo's spine when he pressed that button that led to their deaths. 

Tubbo can remember Quackity and Schlatt, though he can't visualize any of it. He hears their voices and their words, but he can't see them. He doesn't know what they look like, other than vague descriptions given to him by Wilbur and Tommy, who are both shit at describing faces. Tommy is less hellbent on getting him to remember. He's a lot more relaxed now, he's not nearly as aggressive about jogging Tubbo's memories. They both let things just _happen_ , and it's been working.

It works a hell of a lot better than Tubbo honestly thought that it would.

He still likes to play _real or not real_ with Tommy. It helps a lot, and Tubbo knows that he can trust Tommy. 

Tubbo wanders into the main area of Pogtopia, listening to the way Tommy and Wilbur argue softly, their voices echoing in the ravine. As much as they try to keep quiet when their verbal sparring matches start up, that never lasts long. They fly into rages of fury and yelling and screaming, hands waving wildly about, screaming matches echoing in everyone's heads. Tubbo remembers how close the two used to be, and although Tommy still loves Wilbur, Tubbo doesn't know if the feeling is returned.

He hopes that it is. Tommy deserves it. He deserves so much better than what he's been given.

"Hey," Tubbo raises his voice, crossing his arms against his chest, barely wincing when he does. Wilbur looks up, sighing. He always does, it's not surprising anymore. Tommy smiles at him, though it's strained and exhausted, just like normal. "I think that I've got all the important memories back," he taps the side of his head, smiling. "How about we put me back in a uniform and send me off to fight?" 

Wilbur grins, and Tommy's face drops. 

"You just got better, absolutely fucking not. Will, tell him no."

"Hey," Wilbur smiles, holding up his hands. "If he wants to go back to war, that's on him. Not me. You positive, Tubbo? I don't want to wait any longer.

Tubbo puffs out his chest, falling back onto an easy smile that hurts his heart. "'Course I am. Let's get to it," Wilbur laughs, nodding, disappearing half a second later to go and find Techno, probably. "Now that he's gone," Tubbo murmurs, grabbing Tommy by the arm. "Good news and bad news."

"What the fuck.."

"I remember enough," Tubbo grins. "And I think I can get us a easy way to win the war, Tommy. Schlatt's got heart problems, really bad. Every memory of him I've got, he's talking about how his chest hurts, how he has to drink more or work out more, and that amount of stress.." he trails off. "I just need to get that to speed up a little, yeah? Then, guess what? War's been won. We'll win."

Tommy blinks at him. "You..think you can do that?"

"I _know_ I can do that," Tubbo assures him. "Find me an opening, I can speedrun this motherfucker's death." Tommy grins at him.

"Then let's throw you back into a uniform," he reaches out, taking Tubbo by the hand. "But if I see anything, if there's _any_ chance your plan doesn't work.." he pauses. "You know what I'll do. I'll get you out of there, I won't let you go through with. That sounds fair?"

It's as fair as Tubbo is going to get. He might not remember all their arguments, but this seems about right.

"Consider it a deal, big man," Tubbo nods. "Now, come on. Let's get suited up."

Tubbo thinks that this might not be the best idea, but it'll sure as hell be the best memory to create. 


End file.
